All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

Ian alternated being on his phone with working on his computer while Cabot and Drake watched television until Cabot fell asleep on his boyfriend.

“So it sounded like, from what you said,” Drake began when I crossed the room to check on him, “that the cartel people don’t want to hurt me.”

“Yep,” I sighed. “That was my understanding as well.”

“How come, do you think?”

“I think if you hadn’t seen Safiro Olivera that night, he would have been burned up and no one would have ever known what happened to him.”

“So now his family knows what really happened to him.”

“And that way they can grieve.”

“Well, good, that’s important.”

We were quiet a moment as I studied him. He had such a good face, strong and kind. “So your life will probably go back to normal faster than you think. Maybe you and Cabot can go back to Bowman and—”

“No sir,” he said implacably. “Cabot and me, we’re going to start our life together far away from all that.”

“You’re really young, Drake. You realize that this—you and Cabot—might not end in a fairy tale. You might not last.”

He thought a moment, his gaze surfing the room before landing back on me. “Maybe. I mean, I’m not stupid. I know we’re really young, both of us just turned eighteen, and it’s not gonna be easy. We’re gonna have to go to school, and even though school will be taken care of, we hafta eat, right?”

“Yes.”

“And Cabot, I mean, he’s never worked a day in his life. He doesn’t know about anything, so that part’s kinda scary.”

“Sure.”

“But I love him like crazy, you know? And when you love someone like crazy, should you stand around being scared that something might not work out, or do you do something about it and take a chance?”

He was right. And because he was so young, he could look at his situation and see it for what it really was—time to take a leap of faith. I had to do the same.

Leaning forward, I patted his knee. “You’re right. Just do the best you can.”

His face lit up. “Thank you, Miro.”

I got up and walked over to Ian, who was back on his phone. When I was close enough, I overheard him say “Emma,” and so I hesitated.

“No,” he sighed, raking his fingers through his hair before he turned around to look for me. I could tell because his gaze swept the room, and then he tensed before he noticed I was right there.

I saw him take a quick breath and settle, and it hit me, like I’d been shot. He needed me to ground him, to tether him, so he didn’t float away. I would do the best job of it ever once we got home. We had to talk on the plane. There was so much to say.

“I can’t,” Ian said gruffly into his phone. “It looks like I’m gonna be tied up for the foreseeable future.”

And he was. With me.

Chapter 18

ON THE second leg of the trip home, there were six seats for us, two in first class and four in business. We sat in twos, Kage and White—who was back from leave—up in the fancy seats, and then Cabot and Drake, and me and Ian. I had been really happy to see Chandler White striding up to me beside Kage, looking all hale and hearty.

“What did you say?” he teased.

“I’m being all corny ’cause I’m so happy to see you back on the job.”

He gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You’re a sap, Jones.”

And I was, but having the team back together meant a lot to me. Like the four women in my life who loved me, they were my family.

We played musical chairs with the seating because my boss wanted to talk to everyone. I thought Cabot was going to come out of his skin when it was his turn to go sit with Kage.

“He’s just gonna ask you some questions,” I promised when he walked back to me instead of forward to sit with Kage in the last row of first class, where they had actual glass salt and pepper shakers.

He nodded, inhaled quickly, and strode forward and sat down.

“What’s he asking him?” Drake wanted to know, leaning up over the seat.

“He’s looking to get an accounting of what happened at his father’s house,” I explained. “I wrote a report, my boss is only corroborating it.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said worriedly. “But he won’t take us away from you and Ian, right?”

White did a slow pan to me from where he was sitting now beside Drake.

“Shut up,” I snapped at White before returning my attention to Drake, who appeared terrified. “It’ll be fine.”

“My mother never gave a shit about me and I never knew my father. Cabot’s folks were the same. So you and him,” Drake said, tipping his head at Ian, “are as close to people who give a shit as we have.”